


Can Never Lie To Me De

by stuck_as_sarah



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Swap, Fantasizing, Fluff, M/M, Masturbation, Older Sam, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sam is a Tease, Scent Kink, Sleepy Cuddles, Teasing, Young Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-12-05
Packaged: 2018-02-18 20:19:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2361017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stuck_as_sarah/pseuds/stuck_as_sarah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wincest age swap, I will add tags as I add new chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dean always had a feeling Sam just _knew_. Just like he always did for everything, always read Dean like a fucking picture book. Why wouldn't this be one of those many times? He could never lie to Sammy. What made him think he could keep this big a secret for long? Especially when it was having an eye for his nerdy older brother. Of course Sam had to notice his long stares burning holes into him. Sam would even catch him looking and Dean would turn away quick, blushing like a girl caught gushing over a boy across the classroom. Sam always gave an almost _knowing_ smirk when he'd peek back up at him. His eyes took on a dark shade whenever Dean would linger on Sam, like his dimples when he'd laugh. He'd drift off thinking of kissing them, of where else he might have dimples. Sometimes Dean couldn't help running his eyes up Sam's long legs to his broad shoulders. He was just sprouting up, building muscle, and yet Dean just knew his body wasn't even close to done yet. He could practically see the form building of the large man he'd be, while Dean felt small with dumb freckles all over his pale skin.  


Sam went on runs practically every morning. He'd push himself harder on Saturday's like today. Dean _definitely_ didn't plan out when he would just happen to be in the kitchen for some cereal in the morning and he most _definitely_ didn't purposely drag his lazy butt out of bed at the crack ass of dawn to catch Sam coming home. He could just imagine Sam's lean body dripping sweat, pants escaping his thin pink lips, dressed in his shorts and tight tank, probably damp all over clinging to his chest.  


Dean jumbled from his day dream, luckily only half hard as a result, by the almost heavenly sound of the click of the door and Sam's sneakers, unlike Dad or Bobby's hard steps of boots who were both off on their most recent case together that Sam seemed to only be filled in on. Dean didn't realize he'd been just staring into the fridge at the milk for his cereal, previously dreaming of his brother's sweaty body and fuming a bit at his apparent youth. He had his first sawed off for “protection” and couldn't even know details on the hunts.  


Dean only fumed more, occasionally actually huffing as if about to throw a tantrum, and jumped half out of his skin with the sudden presence of Sam leaning over his shoulder as if to see what he's staring at. Dean held a hand to his chest and attempt a few deep breathes to regain composer while Sam just smirks behind him, almost resting his chin on his shoulder. Dean almost shivered at the rough pant Sam gave so close to his ear and he huffed out, “You gonna grab that milk or just keep undressing it with your eyes?” Sam stood with a chuckle crossing the room. Dean fumbled for the milk attempting to shut the fridge with annoyance despite his arousal. He could practically smell Sam from how close he was. Dean got his Lucky Charms together in his bowl and almost let it slip through his hands as he turned from the counter to see Sam's head cocked back, taking long gulps of his water. Dean watched Sam's adam's apple bob with each swallow, gripped tight on his bowl with his sweaty palms and took advantage of the few seconds Sam's eyes were closed to track to drops of sweat trailing from his face. He took in the build of his tanned biceps, dragged his eyes across Sam's torso, Sam's arm lifting the water bottle flexing with new muscles, revealing the patch of dark hair growing on Sam's armpits.  


Dean moved to set the bowl down quick on the table in front of him, knowing it was seconds from slipping through his sweaty grasp, as Sam started to finish the last of his water off, pulling his lips from around it. Dean was frozen as the last bits of water left ran down Sam's chin and throat moving to his sweat soaked shirt. He was just grateful he wasn't holding the bowl anymore, but as Sam's heavy lidded eyes connected to his, he jerked him eyes down to his feet and made the torturous drag of the chair by the table, screeching against the linoleum causing Sam's lips to twist into a smile and huff out a short laugh at Dean's wincing face with each pull of the chair till he could slip in. Dean started to eat and kept his eyes on each scoop, not trusting himself to look at Sam. “Fuck, that was a good run,” Sam said, practically moaning out the words. Dean had to clear his throat before giving a shaky response. “Yeah?”  


“Yep. I'm dripping with sweat man, this shirts absolutely ruined,” Sam said, less disappointed and more matter of fact. Dean chanced a glance up, probably just as Sam wanted, and caught of Sam stomach just before Sam's hand reach to the corner of his shirt stuck on one hip and began tugging it over his other arm, flexing every muscle in his stomach in the process shining with layers of sweat. Dean instantly began hacking up his currently bite of cereal, his coughing getting a piece stuck in his throat in the process. Dean could just feel Sam's smile and laugh coming as his eyes teared up. “You dying over there?” Sam asked. Dean gave a last cough before raising the rim of the bowl to his lips and chugging down gulps of milk. There was a drop falling down Dean's throat when he gasped for a relieved breathe of air. Sam's smile had fallen, but he was staring at Dean, more so his mouth, wiping sweat off himself with his ruined shirt. Dean licked his lips as he stared at Sam, imagined the salty taste of him as he would run his tongue along his chest, only returning his gaze up to Sam's face when he cleared his throat unnecessarily loud. “Well, I'm going to shower. Enjoy your cereal De,” Sam said as he sauntered away, tossing his sweaty shirt onto the couch.  


So what if Dean happened to almost fall off his chair trying to lean enough to watch Sam's ass as he walked toward the bathroom. Dean was almost disappointed that he wouldn't go around all day smelling of sweat until he saw Sam's shirt hanging off the arm of the couch. Dean _totally_ didn't trip over himself trying to throw the bowl into the sink and get to the couch. Dean sprawled out on the couch, shirt in hand, and the only thought he had was that he'd have ten minutes at the most and how fucked up he is. Dean took in a long whiff of the shirt, felt his dick give an interested twitch and the strong smell of _Sam_ , and took a last moment to think how fucked up he is before pushing past the waist band of his shorts and underwear to grab at his cock. He covered his face with Sam's shirt so every inhale was of Sam. He pulled the band underneath his balls and rolled them in his hand and imagined Sam on his knees in the middle of the kitchen fondling them, leaning in to kiss them and the length of his dick while looking right up at him.  


Dean panted into the shirt, probably even drooled a bit, pumping his cock up into his fist, the dry friction of it burning and pulling at him, but just feeling _so damn good_. He thought of Sam's abs, of Sam's pulling the shirt over his head just so Dean could dive in and lick at his chest, kiss everywhere, down his stomach, till he got to his shorts. He imagined laying his cheek against the line of his dick through the thin fabric and the smell he'd give off. Dean bucked his hips furiously as he thought of pulling out Sam's dick, feeling the course dark hairs growing around it, running his fingers from the trail on his stomach till he had a fist full of the hard flesh and could lick his way up. Dean was so close, _so fucking close_. He could taste his way up Sam's cock, suck the tip of it into his mouth until he got that drop of precome right onto his tongue. Dean flicked his tongue out to lick his lips and caught a hint of the shirt, tasting the salty hint of Sam's sweat on his tongue, imagine he was comparing it to the taste of his precome and he bit in some of the shirt to quiet himself as he shot rope after rope of warm come along his stomach and shirt.  


He groaned out, muffled by the salty fabric between his teeth, and pulled the shirt away from his face, panting, taking in the cool air as he tried to level himself enough to throw his feet over the edge of the couch and tug his own shirt over his head and clean himself off with it. He already dreaded the obvious stain that will be on it and couldn't wait to trash before he forget and it went away with Sam to be washed and most likely be seen. Dean put Sam's shirt on the arm of the couch as it was before, as if Sam didn't want him to do exactly what he did, and attempted to still make it seem untouched. As Dean made his way to his room to stash the shirt he almost gave a pathetic groan as a puff of steam came from the just opening bathroom door. He made his way to cross before Sam saw the bundle of his shirt covered in his own come, but was stopped just as Sam stepped out to block his way right in front of Dean.  


Drops of water were cascading down the long tan length of Sam's skins and Dean had repress a moan as his eyes followed to loose grip of the towel in Sam's hands, still showing the trail of hair and jut of his hips. Every inch of Sam gleamed a wet shine and perfume of the clean soap smell wafted out of the bathroom with the steam that Sam undoubtedly smelt like _all over_. Dean _definitely_ didn't squeak as he said, “You done showering?” Sam stepped by and Dean pushed his way through into the heavenly mist of the steam, the shirt hopefully hidden in his grasp by his side. Sam started to walk away towards the living room and Dean took a last peek around the doorway to see the curve of where the towel started to cover the top of Sam's ass. He bit onto his bottom lips, unable to turn away from the view until Sam picked up his shirt from the couch and only turned to raise an eyebrow at him, eyes connecting immediately because he could probably just feel the heat of his gaze. Dean turned into the bathroom fully and slammed the door. He took a deep breathe and thought that he just might jerk off again in the shower.


	2. On The Road Again

After John and Bobby got back from their hunt a few days later John had got about half a nights rest before telling the boys to get their things together and in the impala. Sam had already started packing once Dad got home, telling Dean they're probably leaving early morning. As much as Dean wanted to pout and yell, especially after they'd all started to talk about what happened during the case and Sam had to pull Dean out of the room and tell him to start packing their clothes and “just leave it, De,” Dean held it all in.  


It was early morning just like Sam had said. Their three combined duffles were in the trunk and Dad was driving them to who knows where on less than probably five hours sleep, as if he ever got much more than that normally. Sam and Dean were stuffed into the back with the blanket they kept in the trunk for long drives. Despite the sun rising and starting to beam through the back windows, Dean wanted to go back to sleep and Sam was right along with him. Sam's bed head was on full blast from them rolling straight out of bed to hop into the back after a quick goodbye with Bobby. Dean thought it was adorable, especially how unbelievably cute a six foot tall boy could be rubbing his sleep filled eyes.  


Sam had his long legs stretched out in the back, one leg hanging half over the seat making just enough room to settle in between and rest a cheek on Sam's chest, as was their usual position. Sam rested his hands low on Dean's back after grumbling out, “Stop squirming so fuckin' much De,” and Dad giving a gruff comment on “fuckin' language” before switching on the last tape left in the player. Dean smiled as he rested his chin on the back of his palm and looked up at Sam and his hair sticking up in all angles. Sam opened one eye an groaned. “What?”  


Dean chuckled, feeling Sam grumbling underneath him. “Like the doo.” Dean's eyes crinkled slightly as his smile turned to a full spread grin at Sam giving a long groan. “Fuck you,” Sam said as he tried to worm his head from Dean's view and resist running his hands through it. It just made Dean laugh and _definitely_ not giggle one bit. “Just, stop, c'mere,” Dean said between small laughs, reaching up to cup Sam's cheeks. Sam watched Dean laugh and give a warm smile as he ran fingers through Sam's hair and smoothed out the tangles. Sam tightened his hold around Dean and started to smile at him as his expression became focused on the task at hand.  


Once Dean tamed Sam's hair he rested a cheek on Sam's chest and absently played with his hair and scratched his scalp, feeling a hum rumble low in Sam's chest. “Sammy?” Dean asked. “Hm?” Sam replied. “Where are we going?” Dean fiddled with his fingers as he asked, staring down at them instead of to Sam. Sam thought how young he looked and sounded, and how Dean would react if he actually told him. He thought for a second, gave a small hum before answering, “Not really sure. Dad just said East. Think we'll find out as we go. You know the deal, check some papers and stop. We might just stop soon if he sees something.” Dean hummed in agreement. He wanted to ask if Sam would go with Dad if he found a case, but he knew there was no way to really know if he would or not or if Dad would even find a case so soon. Dean sighed, relaxing into Sam's chest and eased at the steady fall and rise along with his breathing. He knew they'd be on the road for a while and tried to just be content he was able to be with Sam right now, like this. He fell asleep listening to Sam's slow breathes and a hand in his hair.


End file.
